Though my mountaineering skills have plateaued in the past few years, my driving
stamina continues to reach new levels. Having mastered the late Sierra drives
of 4-5 hours and the longer desert drives of 6-7 hours, it was time to step up
the effort - the 8-9 hour drive to Las Vegas. It would seem that the bewildering
array of caffeinated beverage choices available at the supermarket was designed
for just such efforts. Armed with Java Double Monster Mocha Liquid Energy in
the convenient 20-oz cans, a dozen CDs, five of the more annoying Central
Valley radio stations programmed into the console's memory, and a sleeping bag
and comforter in the back of the van for emergencies, I was off and
running. I had started so early from San Jose that I was in evening rush hour
for the first hour. Once I hit SR152, things opened up and I was moving. Over
the Diablo Range and into the Central Valley, I cruised down Interstate 5 for
several hours going straight as an arrow, or at least as straight as they were
able to build the highway. At the SR58 turnoff, I stopped for gas and
Starbucks with the convenient drive-up window, then continued east, on and on.
Through the sprawling urban-suburban mess that
is Bakersfield, surprised at the amount of congestion, development, and the
continuing addition of traffic lights along the state highway, I crawled my way
past. Progress picked up as I flew over the Southern Sierra at Tehachapi Pass,
traffic now mostly diminished to the truckers and myself. Bypassing the town
of Mojave, the highway continues east to Kramer Junction and to its terminus at
Barstow where I arrived sometime before midnight. I picked up Interstate 15
heading northeast, through Baker and the California border. Preceded by
countless billboards virtually guaranteeing one riches beyond belief, the
casino lights announce your unmistakable entry into Nevada. Like the desert
that surrounds it, humanity seems to come to life here only at night. My brain
was abuzz with caffeine and the excitement of reading the billboards describing
my impending wealth, looking for my exit described as six miles south of Las
Vegas. I exit the freeway as I approach The Strip, thinking I must have missed
my turnoff. Little did I realize The Strip starts a full 9 miles from downtown
Las Vegas. It is truly a wonder to comprehend how this town has grown over the
years in gaudy opulence at the cost of billions while at the same time
generously making millionaires of nearly all its visitors. I marvel at the
beauty of it all.

Buying my second tank of gas in the dead of night amid the bright lights of
The Strip, I eventually find my way past all the glamor (foolishly forgetting
to pick up my winnings at the gaming tables on my way through) and find the
Blue Diamond/Pahrump exit. I drive for almost an hour west on this road and up
the narrow, winding, but thankfully paved Lovell Canyon Road to a small
turnout where I planned to start hiking in the morning. It is 2:30a and by now
the caffeine has worn off. I'm tired and crawl in the back to sleep. It comes
easily.

My alarm has me up at 6a. Though I've only had three and half hours rest, it
has done me a world of good. I'm ready to tackle my first peak in the Nevada
desert, despite temperatures hovering around 25F outside. For a few moments it
is warm inside the car as I had started the engine to heat the interior, a
glorious waste of precious fuel for a few moments comfort.
I eat a hasty breakfast, dress in all my
warm clothes, then throw myself outside.
Following the road to Red Rock Summit,
it doesn't take long for me to find the rutted, icy conditions that would have
made it impossible for me to negotiate the frozen dirt road in the van. The
extra three miles each way I have to walk are certainly worth saving the
punishment the van would have taken. The sun
comes up as I hike along in the
shade of the canyon, and I wish I could have been on the other side of the
ridge and enjoying the warming rays of the sun. I would have to wait until 7:30a
when I reached Red Rock Summit before I could bask in the sun.

When I reach the summit,
the highpoint of the road before it drops down the
northeast side to the Red Rocks area, I find a trailhead sign
for North and
Bridge Peaks. I dutifully follow the trail up, climbing a good deal of
elevation before reaching
the ridgeline west of Bridge Mtn. North Peak is just
off to my left at a fork but I decide to save that small excursion for the way
back. I turn right and follow the trail along the ridge, now having
trouble with snow covering about half of the trail. The snow is icy hard and I
have neither snowshoes nor crampons with me, so I must walk carefully in places.
Once the trail starts downhill from the ridge most of the snow is gone as it
has melted from this southeast-facing portion. The trails winds down
to the beginning of slabby sandstone
where the trees have given way due to lack of
soil. I follow the trail until it ended in these slabs, then pick my way
downhill further, dancing around the heaps of icy snow that have
built up in the shady areas as I head east towards the saddle.
The snow actually makes the
route more interesting and I find myself enjoying it a great deal.
Picking my way along the
slabs, it is impressive to see the deeply carved canyons on either side
of the route. Ice Box Canyon drops down to the north,
Pine Creek Canyon to
the south (actually I think it is a side canyon of Pine Creek, maybe Fern
Canyon?). I couldn't imagine routes coming up those canyons to the peak, but
sure enough I find evidence of just such routes online later when I get back
home.

Once at the saddle,
the real route begins. I have been eyeing this first
section that the DPS rates as class 3, thinking it looks nearly vertical from
afar and more likely impossible. Once at the base of it, I find that looks are
deceiving - it's class 3 and fairly easy at that. There is no snow at all on
the class 3 section, facing west and getting a good dose of sun since it last
snowed more than a week prior. I come across the first of a number of ugly
black arrows
pointing the way, wondering what bonehead thought this would be a
good idea.
I have seen similar markings in Colorado and found them later in
the week in Arizona. Is it just in California that this is taboo I wonder?
(Sadly, I
found even worse red arrows on Picacho Peak in California at the end of the
trip.) The arrows seem completely unnecessary. In fact one
could ignore the arrows and climb past where they indicate a traverse to the
left. On the way back I found a half dozen more arrows on the slabby part before
the saddle that I had missed on the way east, having found easy enough
alternate ways even with the snow. A shame.

Above the class 3
section I move onto the NW side of the peak, found more
snow that could be bypassed, and came upon the 25-foot arch
through which the
route passes. Only later did I discover this was the arch for which Bridge Mtn
is named (I had mistakenly thought the lower saddle was a huge arch, but found
to the contrary when I examined it more carefully on the descent). The arch is
impressive and I stop to take pictures and marvel at it. Passing through the
arch, I find the pool of water on the other side, which they say holds
drinkable water year-round, to be completely frozen over. On the
far side of
the circular ice pond a large tree, still alive and thriving has partially
fallen over and leans against the far wall. Another tree, long dead with just
the main trunk remaining, leans next to the other tree, offering help to climb
the far wall. I briefly considered climbing the nearside wall to allow me to
climb up and over the arch itself, but it looks like class 4 and a fall on the
hard ice discourages me. I take the route up alongside the dead tree.

Above the arch, I turn for a few more pictures,
then continue east up to a
ridge, over which the hidden forest comes into view.
An improbable stand of
several dozen ponderosas occupies a small, flat area of two or three acres
high up on this rock monolith. It seems totally out of place in the desert
surroundings. Much of the ground is covered in ice and I
decide to stay high on the west side rock to avoid slipping on it. I move to
the south side
of the forest where a small saddle provides access to the main
summit rocks. With a few hundred feet to go I climb more slabs, again moving
to the shady northwest side where I encounter more snow. Here there are some
patches covering the only logical (easy) way across the slabs. I step gingerly
and hold my breath to give my boots more grip on the hard snow. It works. The
last 80-100 feet are easy with no snow and by 9a I am on the summit. Success!

The register
is chock full of names on this popular peak, but the last entries
were from 2007. I later learn that the local folks who judge these things have
been telling climbers it isn't safe due to the snow conditions. Thus no recent
visitors. Sometimes it pays not to get too much beta ahead of time. I have a
snack while I peruse the register and take in the views, Rainbow
and Potosi Mtns to the south,
Red Rocks spread out below me to the east and northeast.
Las Vegas beckons through the haze far in the distance. The weather has steadily
improved through the morning and I am now quite comfortable in just a tshirt. It
is a grand day.

Heading back down, I take mostly the same route with a few variations on the
class 3 sections. Once back up on the high ridge above where I rejoined the
trail, I take the side branch heading over to North Peak. It is a fairly tame
and unassuming summit, but has a fine view of Bridge Mtn to the east,
Charleston Peak to the northwest,
Red Rock Summit to the west, and Potosi (my
next destination) to the south.
Another hour and 15 minutes and I am back at the van, just before noon.

Wasting no time, I hop in the van and head off towards Potosi.
It takes only
40 minutes to make it from one trailhead to the next. Several miles of dirt
road at the end are mostly in excellent condition, but the last half mile has
some steeper parts along with some tougher sections that have me cringing. I
managed to get the van in one piece to Potosi Spring. What looks like a
recently built home
lies on one side of the road, across from one of many spots
available to park. I hope I'm not infringing on private property as I leave the
van in easy sight of the home.

In contrast to Bridge Mtn, Potosi is exceedingly inferior in just about every
category aside from elevation gain. I started up the trail to Potosi Mine which
is lined with yellow arrows
(the trail is fairly well developed making them
unwarranted) along with
occasional broken glass and aluminum cans.
Ah, the wilderness! When the mine
comes into view,
I pause for a picture then leave the road ("Where did this
road come from?" I wonder) and start up the main west-trending ridgeline. I
followed this ridgeline
for two hours of easy hiking, gaining elevation
almost the whole time. Part of it travels through a section that
burned on the
south-facing slopes some time in the past few years. Ahead to
the east I
spot what I think is the summit, crowned with a bunch of radio towers
and looking very far away. Luckily this turns out to be a lower peak to the
south of Potosi Mtn. It is 3p when I finally reach the summit, having
traveled the last quarter mile over some surprising patches of snow that I
easily punched through in the warm afternoon sun.
Several antennae are found
nearby, but thankfully the highest point is saved the disgrace of a barbed-wire
fence. I find a makeshift register in a plastic container, dating back only
to the previous year. It would seem the registers don't last long on this
easily accessible peak. Though I've climbed 3,000ft to reach the summit, a
service road makes its way to the top along the South Ridge
with several other
installations along the way - the easy way up, if you're an authorized service
technician.

I return by nearly the same route, taking the DPS alternate to Route "A,"
which is a more direct but steeper return to Potosi Spring off the West Ridge.
I return to the van
just before 5p as the sun is preparing to call it a day.
My first forray into the Nevada desert had been picked out at the last minute
as my plans had changed several times in the preceding days, but it turns out
to be a fine day. I drive into Las Vegas, through the outer suburbs along
Blue Diamond Rd, wondering who is going to buy the hundreds upon hundreds of
homes continuing to be built across the desert flats in this area. There is
no sign of a housing slump judging by all the construction going on. Back on
Interstate 15 I am rudely introduced to Las Vegas traffic. The radio
announcer describes
no less than five accidents around the major freeways tying up
every one of them in all directions. The funny part about it was his voice,
sounding so casual, as if this was an everyday occurrence. Maybe it was. I
suspect all these high-contrast video billboards that are both annoying and
distracting at the same time have something to do with it. Gotta love Sin City.

For the low-budget camper in Las Vegas: I pulled into the Circus Circus/KOA
RV campground hoping to snag a free shower, but I find the doors are all locked
and needed a code. Inquiring at the desk, I'm told a campsite with no hookups
is $55. Yikes. But a shower costs only $6 so I fork over the money. A cheaper
route would have been to ask one of the other campers what the code was, and
get a free one.